


All the Time in the World

by Canidais (cyfarwydd)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crime Fighting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Abuse, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyfarwydd/pseuds/Canidais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Large words for such a little man." </p><p>"Not so little that I couldn't save your ass."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> References to past abuse, minor descriptions of violence.

The night was cold and the air felt stale, and Nasir doesn't know what he was thinking leaving the bar like that. There had been plenty of men that had been interested in him, and Chadara had been nudging him the entire night towards the more attractive ones even as she flirted and eventually went home with a gruff man called Rhaskos.

 

Usually he would've been happy to take one of them up on their silent offers, met their eyes and grinned even as he led them back to his place. Things were different now, though, they were. He was tired- which was an odd thought considering he had only a few days ago been freed from the chains of higher education, in possession of a new degree and an aimless existence.

 

He had all the time in the world, and anything he would have filled it with before felt meaningless.

 

Sex was always reassuring, the simple pleasure of another man desiring him. The only thing that he really wanted after he got out his last relationship over a year ago- a five year long torture, an abuse he denied and even came to miss in the following weeks after it had been broken off.

 

Nasir had never been a romantic, but he was dedicated and loyal, something his friends always told him even though he thought it made him sound like a fucking dog. He needed no owner, and that's what a relationship was, being owned by someone else.

 

Except tonight he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of something being _off._ Jitters running down his spine until the man that had been chatting him up had inquired if he was alright, grinned and asked if he was shivering for his touch. And suddenly Nasir had to get _out_. Chadara was long gone and there was no one back at his apartment waiting for him.

 

He was restless, and even though the city wasn't exactly a safe place to be wandering at night, he had a knife and he wasn't afraid to use it, his short stature bellying his strength. Hard earned after the last year of martial arts training, a welcome release from feeling defenseless for as long as he could remember.

 

It was late, three in the morning at least, although he had no watch to tell the time, and the streets were empty. A cloudless night and a full moon provided an almost bright light, and the sounds of the overpass calmed him, letting him keep careful track of the street names even as he wandered aimlessly towards his apartment.

 

Finally the faint buzz of the two beers he had accepted earlier in the night faded and he felt clear headed enough to trek the last few blocks home.

 

Just as he began to turn down his street he heard a faint whimpering noise, stifled as if the person was trying to hide the noise, and then a faint thud of a fist finding skin- a sound he had become intimately familiar with in the last few years. For a moment he considered walking past the alley where the noise was coming from, after all he knew none of the story behind what was happening, and there was no real way to tell how many assailants there were.

  
He felt no shame in that reaction, but for some reason the sound drew him in, and it reminded him of the nights when it was him attempting and failing to hide the pained reactions his body couldn't help but betray. Before he even realized he was doing it, he was drawing his switchblade from his back pocket and springing the blade- five inches long, wickedly sharp, and decidedly illegal. But something about its presence made people think twice before moving forward, a sense of danger conveyed through the way Nasir easily handled it, keeping his elbow tucked in and the blade pointed out.

 

If he had been the one getting attacked, he would've hidden it and waited until they were almost upon him before moving forward and going for the neck or the abdomen, maybe the groin if he could chance it.

 

However his intent tonight was to threaten and not to damage if at all possible. It had already been a long day, and he didn't need to worry about legal repercussions in the meantime.

 

As he rounded the dumpster that had been blocking his view, he saw a large man in front of a fence who for a moment seemed to be standing even as punches and kicks rained down upon him. It only took a second to see that he was slumped forward, his feet inches above the ground, his arms spread out in a sick imitation of an anticipated embrace.

 

Even knowing exactly what he was seeing, Nasir almost couldn't comprehend it. They had fucking _crucified_ him, leaving him up there for god knows how long, and they seemed to be doing their best to deprive him of the consciousness the man seemed to miraculously be holding onto.

 

There were three attackers, all large, although none quite as much so as the man they had strung up. They were still talking in joking tones when Nasir heard the distinct crack of a rib, and suddenly nothing could make him draw away, stupid as the following course of action may have been.

 

Without waiting to think about the consequences he walked forward into the dingy light that was cast from a nearby streetlamp, making sure to bring up his blade and alter his stance, quieting his momentary panic and attempting to look obviously trained and ready to fight if need be, pulling out his phone at the last minute and lighting the screen before leaving it dangling at his side.

 

"I don't know what's going on here, but I called the police five minutes ago and they just assured me that they're almost here. So if you don't want to get arrested for battery and whatever fucking cruelty you've inflicted on that man tonight, I suggest you leave. Now."

 

He had obviously shocked them, although one of the stupider looking men made an aborted attempt towards Nasir. But the apparent ringleader who had been standing to the side for most of the assault that Nasir had witnessed flicked his eyes from the phone to the knife and back again before grabbing the man's forearm and hauling him back.

 

"Forget it, this little shit isn't going to talk, and we've sent the message."

 

The other man growled, frowning as he jerked his arm out of reach.

 

"But Ashur what about-"

 

"Shut the _fuck_ up idiot, no names. Jesus _fucking_ Christ. Let's go, we're done here."

 

Ashur turned around unconcernedly, towing his companions behind him, but not before he looked back and sent a smirk towards Nasir.

 

"If you know what's good for you, you'll leave this piece of shit to hang, and if a word of this gets out to the police or anyone else, we'll find you, my friend, and you won't like what we'll do."

 

Then they turned the corner and were gone. Nasir waited ten seconds, ten seconds to make sure they weren't coming back, and to take a shaken breath as he tried to calm his racing heart. Then he was moving forward quickly, stepping in front of the bloodied and bruised man who was still trying to struggle.

 

"Hey, hey, they're gone okay? I have to get you down, I can't carry you on my own and we need to get you to the hospital."

 

The struggles ceased as the man made a jolting movement, and Nasir thought he might be trying to shake his head, but he couldn't manage more than a weak jerk, rattling the chain-link fence.

 

"No- no hospitals."

 

Nasir frowned, wondering just what had garnered this specific and intense of a beating. But no matter what it was, he wasn't exactly inclined to trust Ashur and whoever the man worked for, and the state he was in, it wasn't like the guy could overpower him.

 

With a sigh he moved forward, dictating his actions so that the man wouldn't react in surprise and injure himself further.

 

"Alright. You pass out on me though and I'm taking you to one no matter what you say. Just let me get you down- my place is close by and I'll clean you up the best I can."

 

What the ever living _fuck_ had made him say that, he didn't know, but he couldn't find it in him to take it back. For better or for worse he was in this situation, and besides, if the man _was_ dangerous, he'd be less likely to do anything to Nasir if he owed him a favor.

 

So with careful hands he curved his blade under the zip-ties that were drawn taut around the man's wrists, hissing as they came away bloody and the man slumped down, stumbling into Nasir as his feet finally touched the ground. God he was _heavy_ , and Nasir couldn't help but be thankful for the remaining restraint that had prevented him from knocking Nasir over.

 

"Fuck, lean against the fence, I'm going to get the other one, try not to fall over."

 

He saw the man struggling to comply and gently nudged his shoulders back as he hooked a faltering ankle with his own, pulling it forward and using the momentum to make him rest his weight on the fence.

 

Turning his mind back to task, he cut the remaining plastic away, grabbing hold the man's arm and shouldering after he pocketed his knife. He was a bit wary still, but it had been a few minutes and if the men weren't back by now they probably weren't going to be return to continue delivering their _message_. Plus he could feel the chill of the skin against his own and he knew circulation had been cut off in the man's limbs for a dangerous amount of time. It was only pure luck that this shit had gone down right by his apartment, because given his size he didn't think he could cart the tall man around for very long.

 

"Try to hold up as much of your weight as possible, I can only carry so much and if you fall and hurt yourself more I won't be able to pick you back up."

 

A rusty laugh came from his companion as they shuffled forward at an achingly slow pace towards the entrance of the alley.

 

"Large words for such a little man."

 

"Not so little that I couldn't save your ass. And the name's Nasir- call me little man again and you'll find I'm not so welcoming."

 

It was quiet for a moment, long enough that Nasir might have thought that he had been passed out on if not for the feet keeping in time with his deliberate steps.

 

"Nasir. Interesting name, it suits you."

 

"And what are you called then? After all, I should know the name of the man who's going to be bleeding all over my couch."

 

This time the pause was more cautious than considering, and Nasir almost regretted asking until the man spoke again, spine pulling back a bit straighter as they rounded the corner and came up to the stoop of Nasir's old brownstone that was clean but had seen better days.

 

"Agron. My name is Agron."

 

Nasir hummed, awkwardly leaning _Agron's_ weight onto the wall as he fumbled for his keys.

 

"Agron then, I'd say nice to meet you but it would be a lie."

 

Again another laugh fell from split lips, and Agron looked surprised at himself, his eyes catching the light as they stared curiously at Nasir.

 

 _Green_. They were green and somehow warm even as the man that bore them returned to a stoic expression.

 

Nasir silently congratulated himself on managing to finally get the door open, and distracted himself with grateful thoughts that they had finally fixed the elevator. He lived on the fifth floor, and even though he took the stairs every time, there was no way he would've been able to cart Agron up them by himself. The man had at least half a foot on him, and muscles that had felt sturdy against his shoulder. The strength that he had appeared to regain with the recitation of his name was already fading fast, and Nasir felt his weight more than ever as he stumbled into the elevator, not letting go of Agron as he closed the doors and programmed their stop. He could sense that when he let go, he wasn't going to be able to pull the man back up.

 

He tried to breathe shallowly and ignore the sickly smell of blood and sweat as he tugged Agron's arm more firmly over his shoulder. They were almost there, the elevator shuddering to a stop on his level.

 

He had chosen the small studio apartment on the top floor even though the stairs were the only means of access at the time, and there were larger apartments that he could afford downstairs, simply because of the privacy. As far as he knew he had neighbors, but he had never actually seen them, and they seemed to keep opposite hours from him. Sound was muffled the higher up they were located, and it was almost like he was separate from the rest of the world when he locked his door behind him. A relief after the swell of the city pressing down upon him.

 

He was doubly thankful now as he took more of Agron’s weight, grunting as they moved agonizingly towards his door- he had no idea what he looked like at the moment, but Agron most definitely was a sight that would send someone to the police, even with the easy indifference that most people seemed to feel towards anyone other than themselves nowadays.

 

Glancing to the side and taking in Agron's strained face he cursed, hurrying to open the door and get them inside before the man passed out.

 

Luckily the size of his apartment was in his favor, and the couch was no more than a few feet away, a soft leather that he'd be able to wipe the blood off of later.

 

He didn't bother to shut the door behind them, focused on bracing Agron's gradual descent, tugging up his legs and gentling a hand on the back the man's head and lowering it to the arm of the couch.

 

After he was settled he wasted no time in going back and locking the door, double checking the deadlock and making sure the chain was secure before he turned back around.

 

The sight of the unconscious man came as no surprise and now that he wasn't in an immediate rush he took a moment to lean against the door and just _breathe._ He had to take stock of the situation.

 

He had a severely beaten man on his couch who probably had other wounds he wasn't aware of, one who he didn't know, and for some reason seemed to trust even though he had no reason to. Pretty eyes were no cause to let someone into your home, let alone someone who appeared to be in trouble with the wrong people.

 

But he couldn't deny that for the first time in months he actually felt _something_ stirring in his chest. He couldn't quite name it, but he wasn't sure he wanted to just yet.

 

For now he contented himself with focusing on the immediate problems- he had a pretty extensive first-aid kit in the bathroom, one left over from his days with Dom, which he now kept fully stocked for when he took a hit that required more than simple icing from the gym. He didn't think he would manage to get Agron out of his clothes, and given his previous reaction to a passing stare from the man, it probably wouldn't be wise regardless.

 

By taking the man into his apartment, he'd already guaranteed that he couldn't call the authorities- too many questions, and it was clearly against Agron's wishes, if his refusal to go to the hospital was any indication, and for some reason unknown to him, what Agron wanted was important to Nasir.

 

It all seemed incredibly stupid, there could be any number of internal injuries or serious damage that his limited knowledge wouldn't detect, but even those thoughts couldn't stop him from going through the motions, a familiar routine of carefully cleaning the wounds and inspecting the injuries.

 

There were bruises mostly, and he knew there was at least one cracked rib in there, although he couldn't wrap it until Agron was able to sit up and help, and beyond that there wasn't anything he could do about it. There were some cuts, only three of them being wide enough to require the butterfly bandages he applied with careful fingers. His wrists were the worst of it, raw and bloodied and painful looking enough to have Nasir wincing in sympathy.

 

All of his clothes were dirty, but Nasir saw blood seeping through the collar of the open neck shirt, and he exhaled sharply as he pulled it back and saw a barely healed rope of a scar on Agron's chest, red and irritated and just barely opened along the center.

 

It had obviously happened several weeks ago, maybe even months, if he hadn't been treating it properly, which Nasir thought likely. A few of the hits must have landed on it and tore at the fragile scar tissue that hadn't had time to harden yet.

 

He didn't think it required bandaging, and it was probably best to let it breathe and hopefully scab over.

 

With a considering glance at the ruined t-shirt and mangled sweatshirt, he went up and got a pair of shearing scissors that he used to cut his hair, grabbing a few towels and dampening them along the way.

 

When he got to the couch he pulled the coffee table forward, taking a seat and leaning over the unconscious man, keeping cautious watch over Agron's face just in case the man gave any signs of returning to awareness and possibly injuring himself further upon the blades.

 

Not seeing anything other than the faint flickering of his eyelids moving in slumber, Nasir began to slowly and efficiently cut through the shirt and hoodie, down his chest and then along his arms until he was able to pull the material away, not bothering with tugging the backs of the items out from underneath Agron’s body.  

 

Luckily none of the blood had stuck to the fabric yet and he could begin cleaning Agron's torso in light sweeps of a soft hand-towel.

 

Part of him wondered if this was too invasive, and a larger part was hoping that Agron would wake up and answer some of the questions that had been clamoring for attention in his mind ever since the quiet of the apartment had settled upon him.

 

However the man continued to sleep in what Nasir hoped was a healing rest, and he got up with a groan, stretching an aching back in order to throw the towels in the hamper and the scraps of material into the garbage. He didn't bother to put away the kit, knowing that when Agron woke up he'd have to clean himself up and then the wounds would need to be tended to again.

 

After a considering stare he pulled an old blanket out of the linen cabinet and moved to place it over the resting man before returning to the bathroom and shutting himself in, turning the shower on hot and stripping himself out of his ruined clothes.

 

He'd done all he could at the moment, and it was almost worrying how _unworried_ he was about sleeping in the same room as Agron, his bed mere feet away from the couch in plain view. Yet something in the man inspired trust in him, something he couldn't remember feeling for anyone but Chadara in the longest time.

 

And even though he'd yet to do anything to inspire such trust, Nasir had the feeling that if he let him try, the man wouldn't disappoint.

 

So when he eventually dragged himself from the warmth of the water hitting his skin, cursing as he realized he had forgotten his clothes in the other room as was his habit, he chanced venturing into the main room with a towel wrapped around his waist, noticing Agron's eyes were still closed as he turned around to drop the towel and reach for a pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt.

 

They weren't closed when he turned back around, startling when he noticed curiously bright eyes staring up at him.

 

Agron wasn't making any move to speak or do anything though, and despite his earlier thoughts towards getting answers as soon as the man regained consciousness, Nasir was reluctant to speak of anything other than sleep at the moment- content to reach towards the sole light that remained on, casting a soft shadow over the walls, and turning it off even as he spoke.

 

"We'll talk in the morning- if you need help with anything just ask."

 

And as climbed into bed, pulling the covers over his body, shivering in something that wasn't cold but might just be _promise_ , he saw the now familiar glint of Agron's eyes tracking his movements, somehow comforting instead of disconcerting as it should be. Closing his eyes to the sight of the man cloaked in the dark of his apartment, his soft steady breathing providing a soothing rhythm for Nasir to relax to, he spoke once last time for the night, his voice graveled and barely audible in the almost complete silence his walls provided from the clamor of the city.

 

"Rest, Agron."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstory, backstory, backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to past abuse.

Nasir woke abruptly when he heard a pained whimper- it had him rolling to the side of the mattress and reaching under his bed for the baseball bat he stored there before he even opened his eyes. Then the familiarity of the sound registered and he slumped back onto the covers with a groan, letting go of the bat to throw his hand over his eyes and block out the bright morning light.

 

Ordinarily he would have closed the blinds before he went to sleep, but he'd been more exhausted then usual last night, almost entirely due to the large man he had had to semi-carry for over a city block.

 

Thinking of Agron brought him back to the reason why he had woken up in the first place, hours before he would normally even think of getting out of bed on a Saturday after a night spent out with Chadara. Nasir swung his legs over the side of the mattress, prying his eyes open and squinting against the sunlight at the impossible image of Agron struggling with getting the chain off the door. It was a bitch to manage with a broken rib though, and he was obviously having trouble lifting his arm.

 

"What? No thank you, then?"

 

Nasir barely caught his wince at how rough his voice sounded, but then he straightened. It was _his_ place, and he'd helped Agron out without asking for anything in return. The logical side of him, the reasonable voice in his head that had kept him safe and kept him living for all those years was questioning why he wasn't letting the man go. He was clearly trouble, and Nasir had no doubt that he would've stomached the pain and gotten the latch open eventually.

 

He could've faked sleep for another five minutes and then never had to think of or deal with whatever mess Agron had gotten himself into.

 

For some reason it was that thought, and not the consequences of knowing more, that sent a sharp pain lancing through his heart, a stutter that he wouldn't address, but that he couldn't ignore.

 

Agron fumbled with the lock again, cursing as he turned too quickly and stumbled against the wall.

 

"My thank you was going to be getting the fuck out of here, little man."

 

Nasir narrowed his eyes, pushing aside the blankets that were tangled in his lap and stretching to his full height, which, while not impressive, highlighted how lithe his body was. He had no shame in his size, and the way Agron said it rang more of fondness than insult, but he wouldn't let Agron have the upper hand.

 

"Either your head got hit one too many times last night, or you're being deliberately dense. I have a feeling it's the latter. Although if you want to go stumbling down a busy street with no shirt, covered in blood, be my guest." Nasir made a sweeping gesture with his arms as if to say _who's stopping you?_ "I'm sure the police will offer you a ride to wherever you want to go."

 

Agron scowled at him for a moment before shaking his head, a reluctant grin forming on his face.

 

"You have me by the balls. Fuck."

 

Nasir didn't laugh, although he sorely wanted to. Instead he walked towards Agron until he was almost within arm’s reach, cocking his head to the side and deliberately catching his eye.

 

"Along with keeping them safe for the time being, I can offer you a shower and some clothes that might just fit you. No one will know you're here, I hope you realize, and this is your chance to get prepared rather than just stampeding blindly into whatever you're in the middle of."

 

If he had expected Agron to argue, he was mistaken. The grin broke out even more fully, transforming the face from just handsome to devastating, and reminding Nasir of how he had felt when they had maintained eye contact the night before. _Safe_.

 

"Although I doubt you would have anything that could clothe me comfortably, I will take you up on that offer of a shower. Though I don't think I can take one very affectively at the moment."

 

Nasir ran a considering, clinical eye down his body.

 

"I can help- this is an old building so there's a tub, and I installed a detachable shower head when I first moved in, you'll just have to sit and let me do the work."

 

God, was he really _flirting?_ Now of all times. There was no getting around the decidedly teasing note to his voice, and Agron returned it in kind, pushing away from the wall with a hastily concealed flicker of pain contorting his expression, saying something that set Nasir's mind burning.

 

"I trust you."

 

It looked like it wasn't just him after all.

 

Regardless, Nasir couldn't have thoughts of that nature on his mind with what he had to do next. Noticing that sometime during the exchange they had gotten even closer, he took a step back, motioning towards the bathroom as he turned to go find something in the drawer where the men he brought home occasionally left an item or two behind. Luckily he always washed them along with his clothes when he stumbled onto them, and his type ran towards Agron's general stature- tall, imposing. Strong.

 

"I'll be there in just a second, just sit down, get your jeans off if you can manage."

 

He heard a rusty laugh come from behind him, "Bossy. I like it."

 

Nasir wasn't blushing, or grinning, and he definitely wasn't thinking about how much he enjoyed Agron's company. The physical was one thing, the only thing really that he would let himself acknowledge and have. The banter, the kindness in a gaze that challenged him even as it comforted him. That was something he felt too cautious to accept at the moment.

 

Nasir had never led an easy life, and when he had first fallen under the spell of Dom when he was sixteen to his thirty-five, it had felt like an escape. Someone to take care of him, to make his decisions, to provide for him. At first the sex was always willing, and if not initiated on both sides, at least appreciated, and Nasir hadn't minded the suffocating grasp of someone having control over all his finances, his entire _life_.

 

Then slowly, the changes started- he could only catch fleeting moments with his friends, go straight to class and then back to the apartment, ready to serve Dominic when he got back from work. If he refused, then he might just not be able to pay for the bus in order to get to campus.

 

It wasn't until three years in that he had taken a step back and realized that there was absolutely nothing in his life that was his own, from his deliberately braided hair to the careful clothes that he wore- all an image tended to and enforced by a man who could pull the ground out from Nasir at any moment.

 

The bruises were always easy to hide, if not easy to live with, the breathlessness of cracked ribs being attributed to having to run to get to class in time, the winces hidden with careful control.

 

Then the women started, and sometimes the men. That was how he met Chadara, which was the oddest start to any friendship that he had ever heard of.

 

He had long stopped protesting the introduction of other people into the bedroom, Dominic was nothing if not charming, and at that point Nasir didn't have a clue as to how to get out of the situation. It had been five years, and Nasir had grown up under a guiding hand reinforced by an iron fist. He was only 21 but it felt as if he would be stuck there forever, nothing but a slave to his master's wishes.

 

Then Dominic had come back from whatever dive he frequented to find his occasional pickups and a giggling Chadara had followed him into the bedroom.

 

It had taken her a few minutes to see Nasir's quiet presence standing in the shadows of the bedroom, posture straight, already stripped down to his boxers.

 

It was the first time anyone had frowned instead of just accepting whatever role Dom chose to have him play for the night.

 

"Who is that?"

 

Dominic had sneered back at Nasir, only barely softening the edges as he advanced towards Chadara- the mood of the night shifting into something decidedly more sinister but somehow horribly comfortable in its repetition.

 

"Oh he's nothing, just a friend, Tiberius. He'll be joining us later on."

 

He had lost the right to be called Nasir long ago, and it wasn't anywhere near the first time Dom had claimed him under a different name for the purpose of role-play, just another way to establish his control.

 

However instead of going along with it, as all of the clearly drunk and usually drugged hook ups had before her, Chadara had moved swiftly, shoving Dom off of her and running towards Nasir, blonde hair gleaming in the dim light as it fanned out behind her.

 

She grabbed Nasir's arm roughly and towed him out the door and into the nearby bathroom, locking the door shut and then wedging them both against it. Nasir had moved with shock before, and he felt a strange anger rising up in him and was just about to open his mouth to speak when Chadara leaned in, her gaze fierce.

 

"Is he hurting you? I know willing, and that wasn't it. I don't know what he's done, but I you have a choice. I'm giving you a choice here. _Is he hurting you_?"

 

Nasir had stared at her- countless conversations rushing through his mind, simple assurances and honeyed lies falling from his tongue with an ease borne of hard-won practice. The nice things Dom got him, the luxury apartment that as a college student he'd never be able to afford on his own, not for a long time. The prestige of having a man as important as Dominic on his arm at local events and fundraisers. The power he provided.

 

_I'm giving you a choice._

 

"Yes."

 

They had ended up huddling in the bathroom for hours, waiting for the sounds of Dominic's drunken blustering to fade and then waiting an extra hour for good measure until Nasir heard the tell-tale sound of the mattress settling under a still body.

 

Chadara had whispered stories the entire time- farfetched adventures and heavily exaggerated tales of the men she bedded. Near the beginning she had rested three fingers lightly against Nasir's forearm, the barest pressure against his skin that she hadn't removed for a second.

 

When they thought it was safe enough, they opened the door quietly, and it was only Chadara's steady, simple instructions that got him to grab his backpack and fill it with his necessities, two changes of clothes, a toothbrush and the few personal items that had managed to survive over the years.

 

Later she would tell him that once he had made that first choice, the choice of admittance, of accepting her help, she had steered him through the rest before the shock wore off. She was older, and while not necessarily wiser, it was a situation that was well known to her. It probably would've been healthier, she said, to slowly approach it, to give him more of an opportunity to think and come to his own decisions, but when he had let her in, he became her friend, and she would take care of him.

 

So he had left the apartment in clothes he had never chosen, hair pulled tight in a style he hated but had gained a weary acceptance for, all his earthly possessions on his back and even then not being his own. The dark of night concealed them, and he had put all his faith into someone he would later learn was called a whore by almost all who knew her, distrusted and dismissed by most, because she had anchored him and she had been the first one to see what was going on and to put a stop to it, in her own misguided way.

 

She got him out Dom's city and into her own, let him live with her in her shoebox apartment for six months as he worked out transferring his credits to the local university, went with him to thrift stores to discover what he liked, ruffled his hair that he wore half-tied back and laughed at the bun he stuffed it in when he started taking self defense, and then increasingly aggressive fighting classes.

 

She had held him when he tried to run back to Dom, refused to let him out the door when he had his bags packed, ready to go back to the life that had been difficult, but had at least been _understood_ and easy in its own way.

 

She'd vetted the studio that he lived in, and approved of his flirting techniques that had been shoddy and rough in the beginning, and she had been the only one to go to his graduation.

 

Chadara was the only real friend he had, the only one who he let in, and that was mostly due to her forcing herself in from the beginning and setting up shop. People from school had made overtures at first, but he kept them at a careful distance, and he had always made it clear with those he took home that it was just for a night.

 

He never let himself feel, and he never let himself weaken, because he had learned from experience that when you loved someone enough, you could be so blinded that by the time they had complete control over you, you gave them the sick satisfaction of _liking_ it.

 

Nasir would never again be anyone's slave.

 

Which was why he picked up a set of clothes that seemed like they would fit Agron well enough and headed towards the bathroom with relative ease.

 

Everything about Agron should scream danger, but instead the very way he looked at Nasir made him feel revered. It felt like he was constantly surprising him, and that Agron enjoyed it more than anything else.

 

No one wanted a slave to speak up, to defy their expectations, and the very thing that would make Nasir hard to control seemed to raise his appreciation in Agron's mind. His entire life, Nasir had been controlled, and so for once, he was going to try to take a chance, to trust his gut and pick a path of his own choosing and see where it led him.

 

Agron would at least provide attractive company and amusingly blunt honesty, if nothing else.

 

He couldn't regret his decision when he entered the brightly lit bathroom, taking in Agron's appearance in full for the first time as he stood nude and unashamed, trying in vain to turn on the water without aggravating his injuries.

 

He had been able to tell that Agron was muscular of course, but seeing him now put him in a whole new category- Nasir was a fighter, and he knew the difference between working out for show, and surviving and reaping the benefits of the struggle. Looking beyond the bruises and the thick, knotted scar on his chest, Nasir could see how Agron moved with a fluidity and a full awareness of his body.

 

He didn't think that Agron was putting on a show at all, given the way they had been talking earlier, more that he saw no reason to even think of his nudity as something sexual in the moment. He trusted Nasir to do as he said he would and aid him, and the depth of that trust was humbling.

 

Although the other man would clearly outmatch him when he was fully healed, although not as easily as one might expect, he was currently heavily injured, and without any means of protecting himself. He was vulnerable and yet he was letting Nasir in without a single doubt.

 

Considering the situation that Nasir had found him in, it was decidedly odd, and he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that standing.

 

Huffing, Nasir placed the clothes on the counter before gently shouldered Agron aside and reached out to turn on the hot water, sticking his other hand other the tap until it was lukewarm.

 

Once he was satisfied, he drew his hands bank and considered the bandages that still remained on Agron's body. There was nothing he couldn't re-do and it was probably best to get him as clean as possible since he hadn't been able to sterilize anything very well the night before.

 

Nasir flicked a glance up to Agron's face and took in his steady, sardonic expression before he bit his lip and began to peel back the bandages, leaning close to check the injuries as they were revealed to him. None looked infected and luckily nothing seemed more severe than it had the night before.

 

To Agron's credit, although he inhaled as Nasir huddled closer to peer at the various cuts and scrapes across his body, he made no attempt to force Nasir closer, or even make a move at all. He simply stood still and relaxed under the attention, containing his appreciation to his body and not attempting to encroach upon Nasir's even though it would clearly be welcome.

 

It was that which made Nasir comfortable enough to remove his shirt when he stepped back, tossing it alongside the things he had gotten for Agron. He snagged a hair-tie from his pocket and reached up to pull back his loose hair, tying it back into the bun that he preferred when he didn't want to get his hair wet.

 

Agron watched the process with a warm expression, not a hint of mockery that Nasir on occasion encountered for wearing what was traditionally considered a feminine hairstyle.

 

His long hair was one of the things that Dom had pushed for, and the biggest identifier that Nasir had reclaimed, he wore it proudly and casually and reveled in the challenge it gave when people thought him weak because of how it made him appear and discovered rather harshly that such a thing wasn't the case.

 

Nasir had pieced himself together, a patchwork quilt of his past and his hard earned present- mixed with the possibility of the future. A future that Agron seemed to hint at with his kind eyes and his fierce grin.

 

"Just sit down in the tub- you can't raise your arms and you'll be of no help."

 

Agron appeared disgruntled, not with Nasir, but with the situation itself.

 

"A fucking child once more, made to sit and be bathed."

 

Nasir narrowed his eyes at him, turning away to push aside the shower curtain ready a few towels.

 

"No, a child would be able to wash their own hair, I believe. Or at least make an attempt."

 

Agron snorted and then a hand came into his field of vision, turned clearly in expectation of help, yet again not grabbing onto his shoulder or arm as he easily could have.

 

Nasir reached out and grasped the strong, calloused hand within his own, gripping it tight as he faced Agron and placed a hand under his elbow in order to slowly lower him down until he was sitting carefully under the spray of the water.

 

Nasir wasted no time in methodically soaping Agron down, grabbing the shower head and lowering the water pressure until it was barely a trickle so he could rinse him off one limb at a time, carefully avoiding aggravating his wounds even as he efficiently cleaned him off.

 

As he was running his hand through Agron's hair, rinsing the shampoo out and gently gripping the back in order to tilt Agron's head, his hand snagged on the jagged, longer section of the back of his hair.

 

Although it hadn't been clear with the blood and sweat matting it down, Agron's hair had clearly been shorn off recently- it was uneven and seemed to have been done with a knife.

 

He must have made a questioning noise, perhaps paused in his ministrations, because Agron answered the unasked question in a dark voice.

 

"I did it myself. It is how my people grieve."

 

Nasir didn't voice any of the immediate thoughts that came to mind, and instead continued to run the water down Agron's body as he considered what to say, if there was a need to say anything at all. In the end, his own curiosity and Agron's simple openness made him ask.

 

"Who was it?"

 

It was simple, maybe too simple, stripped of any pleasantries or contrite apologies, but Agron seemed grateful for it, a strange expression overcoming his face.

 

"My brother, Duro. Six weeks ago."

 

"I used to have a brother."

 

It was all he could offer since useless platitudes didn't appear to be needed or wanted, and when Agron remained silent he left it at that, finishing rinsing Agron down and reaching back to turn the water off.

 

He got a steady grip on Agron's forearm and shoulder and shifted his weight so he had the leverage to pull Agron up. They stumbled together as Agron stepped out of the tub, and large hands bracketed his shoulders, steadying both of them.

 

It felt as if he were caught in a trap, unable to move as stared up at Agron, taking in the ever-present blankness that seemed to dominate his expression. It always carried the edge of being studied, assessed.

 

Nasir wondered if he had been like this before, of if the loss of his brother had changed something in him- made him wary. Although he barely retained any memories of his own brother, long gone past the point of mourning, he could relate to the sharp edge of grief making everything seem more painful, more shadowed in deceit and hidden villainous intent in every action.

 

Every delighted, blinding grin that he got seemed to be an assurance that he wasn't betraying Agron's casual faith in him, a certain manic-cast settling down as he let Nasir take care of him.

 

For a moment, Nasir thought was going to be kissed, and although Agron swayed towards him, he stopped inches away, and instead of moving forward and closing the scant distance between them, Nasir chose to stare at him, taking in the hue of his eyes in the bright light, catching on the stubble of his jaw and the faint laugh lines that accompanied the trace of dimples that remained on his cheeks from years spent smiling frequently and without restraint.

 

Nasir had no such lines of his own, and he was sure part of that was due to the fact that Agron seemed older, perhaps a decade more so, give or take a few years, although he carried them very well, and he simply hadn't had the time to etch the lines of happiness. Most of him suspected that he didn't have enough joy to express to even begin to work on them.

 

Perhaps Agron would change that.

 

Which was another ridiculous thought that Nasir struggled to not let overtake him. It was almost like being caught up in a fairytale. Not the easy defeat and release of freewill that allowed him to be swept away in a false romance, but the sweet sincerity and a depth of feeling that left him breathless.

 

He wanted to remain optimistic, but he couldn't let himself simply give in without first assuring himself that whatever Agron offered wasn't simply another form of slavery, another obligation he didn't have a choice but to keep. Even though he barely knew the man, he struggled with the thought of Agron wishing him any harm, but in his case, it never hurt to be slightly removed. Allow himself to objectively view the situation before he made any real decisions.

 

With that in mind, he took one last lingering glance before shaking Agron's hands off of his shoulders and moving to tend to his injuries before he could put his clothes on, wincing in sympathy as he wrapped Agron's ribs and pulled tight.

 

After that was done, he helped him into a pair of loose jeans and a soft flannel t-shirt that Nasir sometimes wore around the apartment when he wanted something warm. He tried to pick things that would be easy to get on and remove, since he knew the soreness would be the worst part of the beating for the next few days- his muscles seizing as they tried to repair the damage that didn't show on the skin but instead burrowed deep into the joints.

 

Most often, the ache was the worst part, the invisible exhaustion that pulled at you and made you want to relax into the ground and not move for days.

 

Once he had Agron fully dressed and taken care of to the best of his abilities though, he couldn't put off asking the questions that had been hounding him since he had first stumbled onto the scene in the alley the night before.

 

"As pleasant as this has been- we really need to talk about what happened."

 

Agron's face shuttered, and Nasir hadn't even realized how open his expression had been until it was gone.

 

"We _really_ don't. I'll be going now."

 

Nasir hissed, darting forward and grabbing Agron's arm in a tight grip as he began to move towards the front door, getting as far as the main room before Nasir caught him.

 

"Bull _shit_. Even if you don't want to tell me anything else, those guys last night saw me, I heard one of their names, and I know their faces, and if they're even half the bad news as they seem to be, they could easily find out who I am, where I live, who I care about. Like it or not, I'm a part of whatever this is that you're involved in."

 

Agron paused and Nasir could tell by the regretful look on his face that he knew what he said was the truth. He seemed to waver on the edge of a decision for a few tense seconds before he glanced away, sighing tiredly and angling his body towards the couch.

 

Nasir didn't let go of his arm and instead led them over, sitting an intimate distance away as he trailed his fingers down Agron's arm before letting go.

 

He saw Agron shiver out of the corner of his eye, and felt pleased as he leaned away, reassured that Agron wouldn't lie to him, if nothing else.

 

He watched as Agron swallowed, staring down at his hands, grasping at his knees in a white knuckled grip. Nasir reached out impulsively and twined his fingers with those of the hand nearest to him, feeling Agron start before he relaxed again and flipped his hand over, fitting his palm close to Nasir's.

 

"It's a long story."

 

Nasir smiled softly at him, keeping his voice hushed.

 

"I've got time."

 

Agron glanced at him, almost shyly, an odd expression for such a large man. He took a moment, seeming to weigh his words.

 

"My brother, Duro and I. We came over from Germany, well. Not exactly by choice." It explained the slightly formal structure to his voice, although there was barely a hint of an accent, he must not have grown up speaking English.

 

"We were fighters, although not like here, with the MMA, for show, or for sport, we did it for money, we did it for food, and for protection for our family. I guess you could say we were like bodyguards, but not the kind you'd put on paper. We were intimidating, and willing to do whatever we could for our blood, to ensure their safety. Foolproof, they said.

 

"I was always a better fighter than Duro, but we had this way of speaking, echoing off of each other, we turned people around in circles, got them unbalanced, it was good for business, and we always worked together. In the beginning it was all contractual- we took the jobs we could, the ones we thought were smart, and it was fine, it was alright for awhile.

 

"Then one day, our main employer, Glaber sent a request. He said that he had recommended us highly to his associate and that he wanted to hire us. Only the job was out of the country, and Duro and I never took jobs that would take us away for long. What would be the point of it all if we couldn't stay and support the people we were in this for? So we turned it down, and everything seemed alright for awhile.

 

"Until our little sister was kidnapped, had a gun held to her head, and we were told that we would take the job, or they'd kill off our family, one by one. One for each refusal. We agreed right away, of course, you don't guard these people without getting a sense of their power, and Duro and I were independent of other contractors, we couldn't take down everybody, and we didn't want to risk her getting killed by being stupid. And when they sent her back, we were already on our way here, only she was already dead.

 

"Glaber told us that he had explained the terms of agreement. One for each refusal, and we had refused once.

 

"We didn't know why it was so important that we take the job until we got there. Bodyguards are a dime a dozen, guys that'll die quick and stupid are everywhere and can be bought with much less, but they didn't want people to fight and die. They wanted people to fight and _suffer_.

 

"It turns out Glaber's 'associate', Batiatus, on the surface he was clean, he ran a brothel, a legal one. He made his real money though off of the ring, the _arena,_ he called it. We weren't fighters, we were gladiators, and there were no limits. He was an insane fuck, but he was smart about it.

 

"Some of the guys there, they had volunteered, because even if you're forced, you still get _paid_ , maybe so they can tell all the rich fucks that sit on their lazy asses and watch us spill blood for _entertainment_ that they're still getting money, that it's _alright._ So some of them were working off debts, a lot of them were criminals that were strong, and they got bailed out with the idea that if they did well enough in the arena, eventually they'd win freedom. If they won enough, they could pay off the corrupt lawyer fees, finish with a clean slate. Fucking idiots.

 

"A lot of the men were like Duro and I- forced. They had loved ones taken, held hostage, or sold into a different kind of slavery. And that's what we were, fucking _slaves_. There was nothing we could do though, Glaber, the fucking shit he is, is powerful, and Batiatus was his hanger-on. If we so much as even gave hint to the police, to anyone who could send anything through the proper channels, our family was dead. We would get to call them once a week, know that they were still alive, still doing fine. But whenever we seemed to be getting riled, he would just mention our sister.

 

"Say how a refusal was one, but renegading on a contract rendered it null and void, therefore ending all responsibility he had of keeping them alive.

 

"We couldn't fucking risk it, and so we fought. We fought like dogs, and like chattel for the amusement of sick spectators, most of them not even realizing that there were _lives_ down there being ruined, good men dying for no reason other than to occupy their thoughts for an hour. It was fucked. I never even realized how _fucked_ the world was until we were sent to Batiatus.

 

"One of the men though, Spartacus, he was different. His wife had been taken before, and then Batiatus killed her and he just was biding his time. I'm a good fighter, but Spartacus was something else- in the _games_ they called him a Champion. He won, he won by killing everyone they sent at him, and killing them in a way that kept the attention of the crowd.

 

"Duro and I weren't going to do anything, we weren't going to help, we _couldn't._ Until Spartacus managed to talk one of the other women that was working in the brothel into getting our family warned, getting them out. As far as we knew they were safe, safer than they would ever be under Glaber's thumb, and we could never contact them again, not without alerting him and painting a fucking target on their backs. So we joined him, because humans aren't meant to be _slaves,_ we have a _choice._ And Duro and I weren't going to be controlled by that sick fuck any longer.

 

"We were kept in a compound, the 'Ludus'. He played into all this Roman shit, it kept people amused, like animals in a fucking theme park. We attacked, and we got out, but Duro, he- we were fighting, I thought we were fine, but one of the guards came up behind me and Duro took the knife that was meant for me and we were so _fucking_ close to getting out. If I had turned one second earlier he would still be alive. If we hadn't stopped to celebrate, my brother would still be alive. If we hadn't been escaping I might've had a body to bury.

 

"We got out though, we got out, and they've been sending men after Spartacus and by association us ever since. I think they know that we just wanted _out_ but Spartacus wanted revenge, revenge for Glaber, revenge for _humanity_. It wasn't just Batiatus- there are slavery rings _everywhere_ , and he's finding out where they are. We've been attacking them, one by one, rescuing people.

 

"The message last night wasn't just to have me beaten, it was to have me killed, my body displayed in a way that might just seem like a bashing to the authorities, but that our people would know was meant to refer to the old ways. When you crucified your enemy. When you wanted to send a sign."

 

Nasir frowned, struggling to take in the _enormity_ the sheer fucking _incredulity_ of what he was hearing. "Why aren't you dead then? What was the point of beating you? Why would they even stop once I got there."

 

Agron shrugged, a self-deprecating rictus on his face.

 

"We're gladiators, Nasir. We don't just die, we _suffer_. It is never a clean death. And Ashur was the one coordinating the attack, and he's _never_ been a clear player. He used to be one of the slaves, but he conned the system, rose up, and he tries to play all the sides. More than anything else, Ashur likes having leverage over those that have power over him. He can brush off letting me live, say that he really did hear the sirens- he knows we can't go to the police, we can't register in the system, not after all the blood on our hands.

 

"He knows though, he'll know that having me survive throws a wrench in Glaber's plans against Spartacus. I'm not just a fighter, Nasir, I'm one of the _top_ fighters, I was there from the beginning, and after Duro, after all that I've seen and all the things that he's made me do. I know that he _needs_ to be taken down. Letting me live is more than just an irritation, it's a problem, and that's something Ashur can use. You were just a conveniently timed excuse."

 

It was more than he had ever imagined, more serious, more crazy than anything he could have dreamt up. Yet, inexplicably, Nasir believed him. The scars on him, the way he moved, the way he _talked._ Maybe someone who had lived an ordinary life would've dismissed Agron as mad, denied it or maybe just placated him until he left the apartment. But Nasir had been owned.

 

Perhaps not in the way that Agron had, but his control and his ability to make his own choices had been coerced and stripped from his life, and he knew what it was to feel like what Agron was describing, and that wasn't a kinship someone could fake.

 

The thought lifted another weight that he had been feeling, one that he hadn't even been aware of, wondering if Agron would ever be able to accept Nasir's past. The strange thought of why he felt so comfortable around someone who he seemed to share very little in common with.

 

Because in the end, no matter the differences, both their lives had been shaped by grief, and molded to a purpose not of their own choosing. Both had broken forcibly from that hold and re-made themselves into new men.

 

For the first time in his life, Nasir identified the feeling burning low and hot in his body as passion, as _direction_. He had never known what he was going to do with his life, he had never found anything to satisfy the need in him that he had no words for. He had almost contented himself to an empty life no brighter than it had been when none of his decisions were made by him.

 

When he had first started training, it had simply been because of the fact that he would never be weak again in any way he could help. He would learn to use what he had to overpower anyone twice his size and come out the victor. Now for all he lacked a concrete faith, he couldn't help but think that this was a sign, that this was something he was meant to pledge himself to, to fight for.

 

"So your leader, this Spartacus, what is he like?"

_You have a choice._

_I'm giving you a choice._

"Spartacus shows us the way."


End file.
